


Honey B.

by S_Faith



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-11
Updated: 2009-04-11
Packaged: 2019-11-21 17:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: Kama Sutra makes someveryfine products.





	Honey B.

**Author's Note:**

> Think of this as Easter candy…? :D
> 
> I don't mention enough how thankful I am for my dearest M., without whom I might not nearly be as inspired or as prodigious. :*

It was long past suppertime, very late, and it was inevitable that she had not waited up for him. The house was dark save for a small lit lamp in the foyer. He set down his attaché, slipped out of his shoes, and was regretful once again to have arrived home so late on a Friday night; he knew how much his wife liked to go out for a drink or coffee, something date-like to cap off the week.

He made his way up the stairs, and as he approached the bedroom he realised that the room was not itself dark. The door was ajar and the edge of it was radiant with what he suspected was a fire in the hearth. He pushed open the door and the sight that greeted him took his breath away:

The fireplace was indeed lit, but so were a half dozen pillar candles encircling the bed; the soft amber light filled the room, highlighting the folds of the ivory silk sheets and casting subtle shadows. This was not what held his gaze, though; instead he was enraptured by the sight of her amongst the sheets. She had fallen asleep, presumably while waiting for him, resting on her stomach and embracing her oversized pillow, her golden hair fanned out on the pillow behind her head. She was uncovered but for a draped sheet over part of one leg and the calf of the other; the bedclothes were instead pooled to the side of her. Where the fire- and candlelight danced on her bare skin, it was literally glowing.

He hardly needed reminding how beautiful he thought she was, but was thankful for the sight of her in such a state of repose.

Quietly and quickly he divested himself of his clothing, then, carefully pushing the sheets back even further, he climbed in beside her. As he got closer to her, he realised that her skin had a soft shimmer to it; this close to her he also swore he could smell the faintest trace of berries.

With the effort she'd put into setting such a sensuous scene, he hardly thought it fair to simply snuff out the candles, turn down the gas hearth, and go to sleep. Instead, he pushed himself up, leaned over her and pressed his lips to the soft curve of her backside, intending on waking her. However, as he did so, his senses were overwhelmed by the sweet scent of honeyed strawberries, the faintest tangy edge of champagne; just as she roused from sleep, he could not resist touching his tongue to her skin, grasping her hip with his hand.

"Welcome home, stranger," she said in a state somewhere between sleepy and seductive, turning to her side. He could only reply with a sound low in his throat as he alternately kissed and flattened his tongue along a spiralling trail up her body as she moved, from bottom to hip to ribcage to sternum to settle on her breast as she laid back. His hand brushed along skin that had clearly been powdered with something marvellously heady; she was obviously pleased at the effect this miraculous powder was having on him, sighing and arching back.

"You like it?" she asked throatily, her fingers combing through his hair then trailing down to stroke his shoulders. He thought his answer was clear enough as he rolled his tongue around the firm bead of her nipple, his hands sliding along her hips and waist, floating on the shimmering dust on her skin; however, he thought he'd better be sure, so growled an affirmative before pulling that hard bead gently between his teeth, then swirling his tongue over her skin, the scent, the taste accelerating his desire for her.

He heard her make a sound somewhere between a light, very pleased giggle and a sigh just as he reared his head back to look at her, rosy with pleasure, eyes twinkling with delight. Lightning fast he took her mouth with his own, devouring her with a kiss as he pushed her thighs apart in order to pull himself over her. One arm kept him propped up over her; the other he put to good use caressing her skin, causing her to moan and sigh, before reaching down between her legs to tease her into a frenzy and to cry out his name, raking her nails on his skin, reaching down to tease him a little, herself.

He was used to losing himself to her on a regular basis; he had actually resigned himself to it long ago. He was not, however, accustomed to such levels of desperation or animalistic intention to please her as much as she could bear and possibly beyond.

With the thought of her perfumed skin against his own driving him on, with her begging him for more, he shifted himself then thrust into her, causing her to bow back like a spring, digging her nails into his skin, crying out again and at length for yet more; she begged for him to do it harder, faster, stronger as she bucked up into him, interrupting his cadence in the best way possible. 

When his thumb edged down between their bodies and found that nexus of nerves there, as he continued moving in her, it had the effect he knew it would; with a great moan he felt her come again and again, calling his name each time she did. Each wave through her (and inevitably through him) brought him closer and closer to the edge of climax; he withdrew his hand in order to brace himself up with both arms; as he reclaimed her mouth, he groaned, drove hard into her, and felt his release overtake him quite powerfully.

He was suddenly on his side with her in his arms, pulling the sheets, the duvet up over the both of them, wondering once more about the intoxicating powder she'd dusted herself with. Close to her ear, he said between tender kisses to her jawline, "What on earth was that?"

"You mean besides a world-class, curl-your-toes shag?" He laughed low in his throat as he raised up slightly to look at her. "It's Honey Dust," she continued playfully; her eyes darted to the nightstand, where he could see the faint silhouette of a canister, a round pouch, and a spray of feathers. "Had a feeling you'd like it."

"Mmm," he said in return. "I did. I do."

She sighed contentedly, cuddling up close to him again. "I could tell."

"Though I'm not convinced there isn't more to it than lovely scented—and delectable tasting—powder," he said, then added in a teasing tone, "like maybe some kind of powerfully addictive aphrodisiac."

She giggled. "Nope. It just has that sort of effect on a person."

"I definitely approve," he said, feeling his lids grow heavy in his more than satiated state.

"It was a dilemma," she said softly. "Dusting myself or waiting to let you do it."

His eyes opened again and turned to her.

………

It _had_ been a dilemma for her, but ultimately waiting for him while covered in the strawberry-champagne dust had won out. She felt badly that she'd fallen asleep, though the process by which she'd been awakened had been a nice unexpected benefit.

"There's nothing to say you can't have it both ways," he said, shifting; she turned to see him reach for the nightstand. "And there's nothing saying I can't have another helping."

She watched him pick up the feather applicator and the pouch. He widened the drawstring, then dipped the feathers into it.

"Lie back," he commanded gently. She did as he asked. No sooner was she lying upon the pillow that he was sweeping the tips of the feathers over her skin, raising immediate goose bumps in its wake. She writhed under the tantalising light touch, prompting him to ask, "Is that nice?"

"Oh yes," she breathed as he drew circles around her breasts, then traced a line to her navel. He raised the feathers again, dipped them into the powder then brushed it along her abdomen to her hips.

She closed her eyes as the soft caresses played over her skin, as the scent of the dust filled her nose. She then felt his lips touch hers and in response she opened her mouth to take his for a kiss, but he only allowed a brief one; the feathers had more ground to cover, so to speak, and continued their trek along the contours of her body, down one thigh and up the other, then drawing arcs around her navel again before coming up to her throat and the line of her jaw. She sighed heavily, opening her eyes again, engaging his own. "Very nice indeed."

"Turn over."

She rolled so that she was resting on her stomach again, laid her cheek down on her folded arm, and directed her eyes up to him once more. Reloading the feather brush with more powder, she watched it until it went out of the range of her vision, then felt it touch down between her shoulder blades, swooping a figure eight from one shoulder to the other. Her eyes drifted closed as the brush traced a light line right down the centre of her spine, then spiralled around the curve of her bottom. Each circle made her shudder with delight, caused her to push her hips into the mattress. He then trailed down her leg, brushing the crease of her knee before coming up the other leg and up her spine again.

She said his name throatily; the feather retreated, only to be replaced with the soft pads of his fingers. "Love the way this feels on you," he said huskily; she felt the bed sink beside her shoulders, felt the whole of his hand flat on her back then move down to her backside, his fingers curling to cup her arse. "And absolutely love the way it tastes."

She felt his tongue flatten against her shoulder; a frisson of delight shot through her entire body as he ran his tongue along her skin. She pushed herself up to face him, kissing him at length, pushing his shoulder down to lie flat on the bed, then crawling over him to straddle his lap and quite effectively pin him down.

She pulled back to look down upon him, his eyes closed, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath; she loved that sort-of dreamy quality his features were imbued with when they were making love. He opened his eyes to look up at her. "I guess I'll have to find out for myself," she said with an impish grin as she sat upright and reached for the feather duster, then dipped it in the pouch once more.

With a flourish, she lowered the feathers to touch upon his shoulder, dragged them slowly across his skin until she reached the other, then zigzagged it back in the opposite direction across his chest. She watched his breathing hesitate and stutter as she drew circles with the thinnest edge of the longest feather around his areola. Between his guttural, gruff sounds, she painted the powdered brush down his sternum to his navel before swirling it in circles.

She reached over and set the duster down, then pushed herself back enough to drop her head and press her tongue to the skin of his chest. As she fluttered her tongue over his very firm nipple, she truly realised how intoxicating and delicious the Honey Dust was.

He sputtered her name just as she felt his hands very firmly on her hips; she knew what this meant—that he was getting close to the edge, as if his firm member pressing against her belly was not indication enough—but she was not ready to give in so soon, not when she had the other side of his chest to attend to. She pulled up then swivelled to favour him with long, slow, languid strokes of her tongue, which only caused him to groan and call her name somewhat desperately; admittedly her rocking motion back and forth probably did not help his suffering.

When he began clutching her hips so hard she could feel his short, blunt fingernails pressing into her skin, she knew he'd had enough. She reared back, lifted herself up, and, reaching down between them to guide him, she descended on him slowly, then rose and sank, again and again. His response was to let out a throaty cry.

She placed her hands on his, closed her eyes, then began moving up and down, faster and faster, loving the feel of their joined bodies, the low, rough sounds he made when he was this excited, the—

Lightning fast his hands left her hips and he pushed himself up, taking her very much by surprise as he pushed her back against the bed. With the full force of his body weight he drove into her, causing a strong yet surprised moan to escape her throat, captured as his mouth covered over hers. Her hands were caught and held down by his own as he braced himself on his forearms; if she'd had an ounce of reason remaining at this point she would have wondered how on earth he had the strength to carry on as he was, especially after their previous coupling, and a full day's work before that.

_Maybe the dust bestows superpowers_ , she mused.

She arched into him, pushing up into him as best she could; she spiralled deeper and deeper into her desire, spurred on by both the feel of him in her and the scent of both the powder and of him filling her senses. With a great cry, with her fingers clenching his, her climax overtook her. From the way he was tensing and shuddering she suspected he was not far behind her; within moments she was proven correct.

As he let out a great laboured and satisfied sigh, he pulled her by the waist with him to roll over to the side. He held her tightly to him; with the warmth of his body, the perfume of the dust, even the sheen of his sweat, she felt completely encompassed by bliss, by security, by love.

"Darling," she heard him say in a gravelly voice. "I do believe you have made quite a worthy investment here."

She giggled into his chest. She couldn't help it. She reared her head back to look up to him, to feast her eyes on his handsome face; his lids were still closed and he was still very clearly trying to regain the normal rhythm of breathing. "I'm glad," she said. "Seeing as we have three other flavours to sample."

His eyes opened as she spoke; he looked simultaneously intrigued and a little alarmed. "Not tonight. I don't think I could—" 

Her sleepy laughter interrupted him. "No, my love," she said, wondering if either of them had the strength to reach over to snuff out the candles. "Definitely not tonight."

_The end._

**Author's Note:**

> [Kama Sutra's Honey Dust](http://www.kamasutra.com/romance/honeydust.lasso) (and a picture of the [feather duster](http://www.ripnroll.com/images/HoneyDust.jpg)). I'm quite intrigued by the honeysuckle, personally. 


End file.
